Skijor Planning

In many ways, it’s “winter as usual.” Training miles are increasing. We’re regularly doing the snow dance in the hopes of parking the ATVs for the winter and transitioning to sleds (nothing is colder than a several hour ATV run in negative temperatures). Wood stove smoke becomes a constant and comforting odor. Diesel trucks require a little extra TLC to coax them to wake up this time of year. The dogs are cocooned in beds of straw (except for Dwight or Havarti who prefer to yank it out of their houses and treat it like a toy). But this year, there’s a new adventure to plan- our skijor trip!

It’s been really fun to change gears and ask a different set of questions. What gear will we need? What is a reasonable distance to travel in a day? Should we travel dogs, pulk sled, human or dogs, human, pulk sled? Which kind of pulk sleds are best? Should we have skins on our skis or jut wax? What kind of skis are best? How do we keep our feet warm? And the questions go on and on and on…

Luckily, we’re not reinventing the wheel. We reached out to experienced skijor travelers Emilie Entrikin and Laura Wright. Both have been EXCEPTIONALLY helpful and shared their knowledge. We’re now narrowing down a list of gear to test out. Laura even keyed us in to dehydrated dog food! I’ve never heard of that before. When traveling with a big team, dehydrated dog food doesn’t make much sense, but when only two dogs are pulling a sled, it might be worth experimenting.

My favorite part of the planning is trying out the dogs. Some dogs have excelled- Muenster, Wingman, Elmer, Thresher, Fox, Dolly, Cooke.

Some have done well with a partner- Yoshi and Faff.

And some have been…um…well.. a failure. One of the biggest surprise failures was Etta! Typically a strong leader can make the jump from leading a team to leading a bike; however, Etta was not one of those dogs. She’s one of the strongest leaders in the entire kennel and single-led through a snowstorm from Nikolai to McGrath, yet something about running in front of a bike- Etta said a hard NO. I even let her loose and tried to have her just jog along with us. NOPE. Etta laid down in the saplings, and I had to walk home with her.

Muenster, on the other hand, has been exceptional! He was partnered with Yoshi for a 20-mile bikejor. He passed teams head-on, overtook teams twice, and pulled my out-of-shape self up Jenny M hill without looking back once. I was so impressed. Last year, when Muesnter was a yearling, he never stood out as a potential leader. This year, Fox and Muenster are some of the strongest two-year-old leaders!

In addition to being comfortable pulling a bike (or person on skis) it’s important that the dog also has great recall. There’s a good chance that one or two dogs will run loose (or on steep downhills they will definitely be loose), so good recall is a must. This unfortunately rules out dogs like Tobin (amazing leader and would probably do great. Instant recall, subpar).

With 3.5 months remaining before the trip (during which time we have two big races- Copper Basin and Quest 550), the skijor teams are by no means set in stone. We’ll keep experimenting with dogs and gear until we get it dialed in!

Unrelated to skijor planning, but fun photos from the past week!

Dino Dwight loves his AlaSkins treats!

Gearing Up- by Tucker

It was dark and early on my last mornings in Idaho. In the wood-floored wall tent, I squinted at Charlie as he warmed his skinny butt by the stove. The coffee was made, breakfast was coming, and I was waiting for Charlie to say something that, in my morning mood, would surely piss me off. So were going the mornings.

I was squishing job end/start dates together, packing hunters in and elk out for the busiest part of hunting season in the Frank Church Wilderness and then hopping off the horse into the car (after a sojourn home) and hooking onto a dog team at Ryne’s. 

In his fifties, with the wiry frame of a boy and facial hair of the Lorax, Charlie had a knack for filling spaces, like the quiet. Today he began with a ballad: 

“Now Sam McGee was from Tennessee, where the cotton blooms and blows…” 

From there, The Cremation of Sam McGee stumbled along with some pauses and oh-how’d-that-go’s, only to trail off around Sam’s last request. Too soon, I thought, as the redundancy of the new day marched on with talk of politics and hunters, how many mules to take where, and how the earth might not actually be round anymore — pity. My dad had given me a copy of The Best of Robert Service but I didn’t begin to appreciate his poetry until that morning with Charlie.

A few days later, I found refuge at home. With a beer in hand I sat on a kitchen stool, watching my dad put together a pizza from scratch. In a good mood, my mom toodled nearby. 

“How now, brown cow?” She asked me, non sequitur. 

“Yes, how now, brown cow,” my dad chuckled and continued:

“I never saw a purple cow, 

I never hope to see one; 

But I can tell you, anyhow, 

I’d rather see than be one.”

The radio chattered on the counter.

“That’s just one of those things that always stays in your head. One of those universal things that’s out there. Like The Cremation of Sam McGee,” he added.

Soon enough, out walked the ballad, pulled from the shelf.

Mom read:

“And I burrowed a hole in that glowing coal, and I stuffed in Sam McGee. 

Then I made a hike, for I didn’t like to hear him sizzle so,” 

“Ha!” She cackled, “That was always my mother’s favorite part.”

I left Montana. The Best of Robert Service sitting shotgun. Memorizing my way along into the Yukon, I slept next to the car just outside of Watson Lake with some foggy northern lights above, passed Robert Service Rd in Whitehorse the next day, and bumped along to Two Rivers by that night. Words from school like iambic and anapestic bobbing around in my head.

Then, it was hum, hum, hum, setting into the rhythm of running dogs; a gear shift after packing. From saddling in silence to harnessing in chaos. From pulling a string of mules to being pulled by a line of dogs. Cowboy boots to rubber boots to mukluks to overshoes to Michelin Man status.

“Tucker, how are you supposed to spot lichen on our lichen quest if you’re asleep?” Ryne asks me as she drives along the Steese Highway. 

“I’m resting so I can collect lichen more efficiently.”

Ryne, Sam, and Cartel the husky sit up front, scanning the sides of road for lichen to feed to the reindeer. I stretch my legs out along the back bench in the dog truck and yawn. Out the window goes a birch, a birch, a birch. I think about how I want to buy my own cold weather gear this year.

“Ryne, what over-mittens should I get?”

“Beaver mitts.”

“How much is a -40F sleeping bag?”

“$1000.”

I double check the math in my head: 10 fingers + 10 toes - 0 = Priceless. 

I gaze out the window some more to see a birch, there’s a birch, there’s a birch, “And before nightfall a corpse was all that was left of Sam McGee…” 

Bounce along the trail, ATV hooked up to the dogs, “Till I came to the marge of Lake Lebarge, and a derelict there lay.”

Chisel at a soft yet solid dog poop during morning chores, “It was jammed in the ice, but I saw in a trice it was called the ‘Alice May.’”

Carry a bundle of firewood up the cabin steps, “And I looked at it, and I thought a bit, and I looked at my frozen chum.”

Watch the daily ravens fly by, “Then ‘Here,’ said I, with a sudden cry, ‘is my cre-ma-tor-eum!’”

Ryno Kennel hosted a spontaneous, neighborly get together the other night. And amidst the conversations across the room, I heard it: “How now, brown cow.” 

I poked Sam, who was sitting next to me.

“How now, brown cow?” I asked her, eyebrows raised. She looked at me quizzically as I relaxed back into my chair, took a swig of beer, and settled into the rhythm and rhyme of being back.

Race Fans- LET'S RACE!

Alright race fans- we have some exciting news!

We’ve just submitted our applications for a couple big races! Drum roll…………

A Ryno Kennel team mushed by Tucker will be running in the 2023 Copper Basin!

AND

A Ryno Kennel team mushed by Sam will be running in the 2023 Quest 550!

For Tucker, this will be his first dog sled race. For Sam, this will be her second. In 2021, Sam ran in the Willow 300. For both Tucker and Sam, the main goal will be having fun for canines and humans alike. They will run a slower schedule and hopefully take many of the youngsters who have not yet run a race. I plan on handling for both races, which might be a bad idea, but I’ll try my best to behave myself and not get too wrapped up in the race. The Copper Basin and Quest are two of our favorite events, so I’m PUMPED that Ryno Kennel will be at the starting line!

And while I haven’t officially signed up yet, I do plan to run in the Solstice 30 Skijor Race and perhaps another skijor race in preparation for our big spring skijor trip! In recent bikejor practices I tried:

Wingman- B+

Fly- D-

Havarti- D-

Elmer- A

I do want to note that while I am grading some dogs harshly (Fly and Havarti), that by no means rules them out. I attached the dogs to my bike and went for a short ride, hoping the dogs would pull. Both Fly and Havarti didn’t understand if it was fun loose run or if they were supposed to be pulling. With actual training (not just conditioning), I’m sure many of the dogs could be great skijor dogs. Dogs who aren’t instant naturals just need a partner or perhaps chasing another team to learn what sort of game we’re playing. So I’m not being entirely fair when I give them such low grades without training.

Anyways- lots of excitement on the calendar for this winter. We hope you all follow along!

Fire

The first photo of Fire is seared into my mind. It was my first Yukon Quest in 2015. I had many young dogs and Fire. I made a silly decision to camp 37 miles outside of Dawson (after taking my long rest, meaning rather than stopping at Earl and Sandy’s, I thought four, 37 mile runs would make more sense ). We camped directly on the frozen Yukon River. I imagine Fire thinking- well, if you insist on stopping after we JUST stopped for hours in Dawson, I guess I’ll just enjoy the scenery. It was like she knew I was a newbie and took it upon herself to coach me through it. I’ve met few leaders with the drive that Fire possessed. She never tired of running in lead. The responsibility didn’t affect her. Fire coached me through our first competitive Copper Basin runs and showed me how good leaders don’t need trails. She set a high bar for future Ryno Kennel leaders. Her great grandkids- Spitfire, Foxfire, and Firefly- are starting to follow in her footsteps. The last couple of years, Fire lived with my good friend Kalyn. In her old age, Fire became goofy and playful. A once sometimes shy dog would meet guests in the Chena OC yurt with a weird head cock and snapping,short woofs! She lived a life full of adventure and taught me so much. You will be missed Fire.

Skijor Prep

Instead of running in a 1000-mile race this year, I’m switching it up and designing a skijor trip. The current plan is to skijor from Kaltag through Unalakleet to a cabin in the Blueberry hills then back to Unalakleet. This section is one of my FAVORITE sections on the Iditarod trail. Also, with Tripod Flats cabin and Old Woman’s cabin, there are sheltered places to stop along the route. Unalakleet is also a major hub for coastal communities, so I can just book an Alaskan Airlines flight to bring us home at the end of the adventure. As long as we don’t get blasted by a coastal storm, it sounds perfect right? I’m excited.

Prior to this winter, the farthest I’ve skijored is 10 miles, so needless to say, I have a lot to learn! I grew up cross-country skiing and have still been using my 20-year-old skis to practice. At least there’s some foundational knowledge. While my old skis work great for playing around the kennel, I’ll need to do some research to figure out what kind of skis are best for a remote trip. Also, my current clothing options (parka, boots, bibs etc) are great for mushing; however, I doubt they’ll be the best choice for skijoring. Other gear I’ll need to experiment with are pulk sleds, tents, gloves (beaver mitts are probably not great for skiing), and hats. What kind of cooking apparatus should I bring? Our massive cooker pots are great for a team of 14 dogs, but perhaps not necessary for a human and two canines. Which brings me to my next big question, and honestly the one I’m most excited about- which dogs should I bring on the trip? How many dogs? Should I bring massive, powerful dogs like Mose or Sherlock? Or is that too much power since it’s hard to slow a dog down with skis? Should I bring smaller dogs with perfect recall like Oryx so that they can be loose on downhills. I’m inclined to bring younger dogs to show them the coast, but perhaps I should bring at least one trail-hardened veteran who I can 100% rely on if the conditions get dicey. So many decisions and experiments! Tucker will be going on this adventure as well, so at the moment, I’m planning on four canine athletes to join us (two for Tucker and two for me, unless Tucker is in too good of shape in which case, two for me, one for Tucker, and one running loose).

Last week, Sam and I brought Fox, Thresher, and Tucker’s dog Charlotte on a day of bikejoring for the first test. Fox was spectacular. A+++. Like a rockstar from the first moment. We biked a trail that went straight up a mountain (I might have left my lung up there from wheezing so much), and Fox drove hard into his harness as if he’s been bikejoring his whole life. Thresher was a bit more confused. He did great in chase, meaning pulling Sam behind me, but he was a little softer on the tug when he partnered with Fox to pull me at the front. Thresher- B. Charlotte (who is only one year old) was solidly mediocre. C-

Since bikejoring with Fox and Thresher, I’ve tested Mose and Sherlock. I’d give Mose a C+ and Sherlock an B+. However, I think both are too powerful, making it hard to regulate our speed. My initial thought is dogs in the 45-55 lb range are best. We’ll see!

Permafrost Tunnel

My folks recently came to visit, and during their time here in Two Rivers, we were treated to a Permafrost Tunnel tour with Roy from the Army Corp of Engineers!

I like to think of myself as a moderately educated person when it comes to permafrost; however, I quickly realized that my comprehension of permafrost was as shallow as black spruce roots (aka real shallow). Good thing I was able to go on this tour and get a better grasp of how COOL permafrost is!

A lot of what Roy described was a bit over my head, but I’ll share some of the facts that stuck with me. Permafrost is perennially frozen ground for two or more years. Since temperature is the only requirement, permafrost can be with or without ice, ranging from hard rock without ice to organic-rich soil with more than half ice by volume. (Also, side note, I’m copying a lot of this info directly from info signs on the tour.) This graphic below shows how the northern part of Alaska is continuous permafrost, meaning over 90% while the Fairbanks area has a discontinuous permafrost distribution, meaning 50-90% permafrost.

The graphic below shows the the permafrost distributions across the polar regions. Take note of Greenland and the lack of permafrost. This is due to the Greenland ice sheet that actually insulates the ground and prevents permafrost!

After laying a groundwork of permafrost facts, we opened up the refridgerator-like door and stepped into the permafrost tunnel. I was picturing a narrow, dark tunnel with spelunking vibes, when in fact the tunnel was enormous and well-lit. Originally created by the Army Corp of Engineers, the tunnel was designed to research permafrost as a possible defense against nuclear attacks during the Cold War. Since then, the permafrost tunnel has been a place for research.

Throughout the tunnel, we could spot ice wedges, like the one shown below. Ice wedges form in a polygonal pattern similar to patterns seen in dried mud flats, except a much larger scale. Each polygon is in the range of 30-50 feet across. The ground cracks, water along with silt, organics, and sometimes air bubbles infiltrate the crack and then freeze. Since the wedges are created with millimeter size cracks forming over and over and over, it can take as many as 3000 years to create an ice wedge like the one in the photo below! Ice wedges haven’t grown in the Fairbanks area since the end of the last Ice Age (about 10,000 years ago). The ice wedges in the tunnel start about 20 feet below the ground surface and reach a depth of 60 feet.

You might notice that alot of the ground isn’t just ice, but is dirt-like:

“Most of the frozen material in the tunnel was originally loess or wind-blownsilt picked up off the river floodplains and deposited in the hills. The silt is bonded by interstitial that fills the pore spaces between the silt particles. In the tunnel, this interstitial ice slowly sublimates (goes from solid to gas without a liquid phase), allowing the silt to fall to the floor as dust. Organic material frozen in silt, now exposed to the air, oxidizes and produces a peculiar odor.” In other words, it smelled strange in the tunnel and was very dusty. We had to walk carefully so as not to kick up clouds of silt.

Doug and an ice formation… I can’t remember which kind so I won’t pretend to know.

Mom, Dad, and Ryne

Kalyn, Sam, and Ryne

Many bones have been found throughout the tunnel. Most are single or pieces of bones, not full skeletons. Most of the bones are dated to about 14,000 years ago; however, here is a stick dated to about 43,000 years ago!

Jess showing off a mammoth bone.

As we approached the door at the end of the tour, I was still in awe at this little slice of ground that we would typically never get to see. I have a new appreciation for the struggles of the Alaska Department of Transportation (no wonder Alaska roads aren’t smooth), and a deeper fascination with the incredible Arctic landscape. A big thank you to Roy for giving us this incredible experience!